


Contingency Plans Gone Wrong

by CookieMonstersRUs



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe, Amnesia, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Brendon Jon and Spencer are still jamming together, Contingency Plans, Crack, Eventual Happy Ending, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, I don't know, I try, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Post-Split, Romance, Ryan doesn't play anymore, Ryan is a dick, Ryan is an adorable idiot, Ryan...is...Ryan, Slow Burn, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, and has amnesia, and stupid, because angst, because reasons, but like only once and not even, but like only one person knows this, everything is fucked up, i guess, i think, ish, more tags to come, the band split, why
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 06:23:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4252731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookieMonstersRUs/pseuds/CookieMonstersRUs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Friday at Captain Knots was cowboyz and cowgirlz day. Club music played in the shop and Miranda took to scandalously grinding up against Ryan as Felicity knocked their hips together. Jon entered the store and dropped his book immediately at the sight, flushing. Ryan grinned at him and untangled himself from the girls before strutting over him. “Jon! Jonny Boy! What can I get you?”<br/>Ryan was hanging all over Jon, the high of music and dancing still hazing his mind. Jon cleared his throat, suddenly dry. “A water.”<br/>“Perfect,” Ryan grinned and pulled away, tearing heat with him. He jumped over the counter. “Do you want anything to eat?” Ryan called. His hips were swaying, butt wiggling for everyone to see. (Those jeans though. Jon was helpless to the jeans. And Ryan’s butt.) “A cinnamon bun?”<br/>Ryan actually (I-shit-you-not) moaned at the idea. “Cinnamon buns! My favorite!” Jon looked up just in time to see Ryan look back and lick his lips. And god his lips…Jon stumbled to a chair and studiously placed his bag on top of his crotch.<br/>Or the one where Ryan Ross loses his memory, cries, and opens up a coffee shop in the middle of nowhere but his *true loves* find him anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Contingency Plans Gone Wrong

**Author's Note:**

  * For [My friend Laurell](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=My+friend+Laurell).



A/N: This story is so outlandishly rediculous in plot and idea, that I beg of you to laugh and not read such insane ideas.

George Ryan Ross II, in all of his paranoia glory, came up with all sorts of contingency plans. In case Panic never succeeded, in case someone stole his identity, if he fell in love with Spencer, if he fell in love with Brendon, if his dad never stopped drinking, if Brent ditched them, if Ryan lost all use of his hand, if he lost his memory, if he started drinking, if the zombie apocalypse took place, if he realized that he was, in fact, just straight, if he became blind or deaf, if he was turned into a mermaid or vampire, if, if, if, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. Ryan Ross knew that life could throw an awful lot of shit at you and it was best to have a plan. Against popular belief, Ryan Ross, did in fact live his life in plans, controlled movements, and methodical nature. It was just, that, well, he very loosely upheld these facts. Sometimes, never, generally. actually, mostly always.

  
So, when Ryan Ross woke up one foggy afternoon with a blank memory and the date a long way off, he got up, pulled on some pants, a button down, and a hat. He got out his phone (which was really, really weirdly thin with some sort of silver apple on the back and it took him three tries to figure out the password (it was Ginger’s birthday)) and searched through his contacts. Spencer’s and Brendon’s names were both followed by a “DON’T CALL” and although it ached to think about, Ryan took that as a sign.

He wasn’t in communication with Brendon and Spencer.

  
Ryan looked around for his wallet, a beaten up thing made of leather with faded photos shoved into the slots. He counted the amount of cash--nineteen dollars and thirteen cents--before dragging out his laptop (black with band stickers all over it) and turned it on. His password changed from Rydencer at one point to Peterick (it hurt to think about why) and pulled up one of his most important word documents of all time. He had it updated all the time, he knew this, from the pits of his being, and emailed it to himself in case his computer crashed and he didn’t have it on a flashdrive.

  
The document was the most important thing in his life, something he’ll never stop writing because pitifully, he knew that he’ll never stop fearing for his future and will never be comfortable enough with just letting everything go with the flow. It was okay, it was okay, Ryan always deluded himself into believing that that thought process wasn’t the shittiest thing ever, it was okay, it was okay. (He also, wouldn’t ever, ever, ever admit that this entire thought process could, and probably was, the exact reason why he wasn’t in contact with the two most important people in his life. It was cool, it was cool.) This document, the most important thing in his life, were the written out contingency plans of any and all scenarios, including all versions of the plans, updated whenever the scenario began to press down on his head. There were thousands of pages in the document. (A part of him was ashamed for being screwed up enough to need these contingency plans, another part was relieved that he had them and was ashamed that he didn’t have more pages.)

 

Ryan clicked around and found the “Find and Replace” section bar thingy and typed in “memory loss contingency plan” and he came up with a few results, but read through them all and clicked open a link. He realized that the Ryan he was a few days ago, had been checking out properties for the past few weeks down south (Ryan Ross was also surprised that he was in Los Angeles) for a business with a little apartment above it. The price was reasonable, the town was small and stranded enough for his plan, and Ryan had enough nerves as it was to just wait and stay (this was where his methodical and reasonable tendencies flew out the window.)

 

On a “slightly” (read:very) impulsive decision, he booked a flight, called the seller, and bought himself a business. Ryan didn’t even know how he knew the deal was good and that the place was gonna be alright and why he thought he could run a business or what he’d even own a business of, music? Selling guitars? Giving little lessons? What would he even do--

  
His mind stuttered, throwing bursts of memories at him. Him, flour covering his hands, kneading dough, chopping apples, stirring coffee pots, and singing loudly by himself to whatever came on the radio late in the evening, early in the morning, and the middle of the afternoon. Ryan frowned, looking at his hands. Little scars from knife cuts and burns from ovens littered his hands (impressions of memories he didn’t have) and a soft smile unknowingly curved around his face. Huh, would you look at that, he liked to bake.

  
Ryan stood up and looked around his room (it was barren, only a few journals littering the floor and all his clothes in their drawers (he couldn’t see his guitar and didn’t feel like this place was home)) and shoved some papers around on his desk. Huh, he thought, as he picked up a certificate underneath bunches of papers. He graduated from college. For business with a minor in English. Huh.

  
Ryan Ross didn’t really know what he felt about the Ryan Ross that lived in this life. This Ryan Ross had a life set out for him in baking and business, and oh, look at that, also had a cat. But this Ryan Ross also didn’t have Brendon or Spencer or a guitar and when he looked through his journals, wrote mournful poetry and sonnets about oranges out of boredom. Hmm.

  
Well, it didn’t matter, not really. He had a flight to catch, an escape to make, and some memories to retrieve. (The best part about Ryan’s contingency plans is that he did extensive research on any and all topic. He knows a shit ton of stuff about amnesia and mermaids and tattoo parlors. He knows that he should probably live in his daily routine (muscle memory knows) and it’ll come back to him. But this place was a barren wasteland of no memory but a loop of a life without Spencer or Brendon or Brent. So yeah, he wasn’t even gonna try here. And Spencer and Brendon were totally not gonna be helpful in this situation.) Ryan picked up his cat, the tag read Captain Knots, and grinned, heading out of his small room and into the kitchen. It was filled with wisps of fruit and sugar and honey. It smelt good.

  
He made himself a breakfast (his flight was in a few hours) consisting of cinnamon buns, coffee, and bacon before feeding Cap’ and heading back to his room.  
He began to pack.

  
_____

 

Ryan Ross had little to no contacts. There were maybe ten: two were the vet and police and three had the “DON’T CALL” attached to their names (who the fuck was Jon???) and Pete Wentz wasn’t there either. Patrick was, sort of. After his name was a “But Only if You’re Dying in the Desert or Have Cancer” (Did you know Ryan had a contingency plan for that? And most of it was filled with medical doctor contact info, redirects to his suicide plan (he’s maybe the sickest bastard of them all to have decided how he’d like to die if it got so worse), redirects to letters he had set up to be given to his loved ones, and a plan that involved his cat, his guitar (if he ever got it back), and his car, driving across the country and enjoying whatever he could in the limited time he had) so Ryan decided he may or may not actually have a good relationship with anyone. Did he have anyone except for Cap’? Ryan literally did not know.

 

But, then again, as he scrolled down the list, he did, apparently, have lots of conversations with Gabe Saporta, but, mostly, he didn’t talk to people. He did and didn’t feel hollow about that. He shut himself out and no one cared, normal behavior for him, not so much for the others. Oh fucking well. He packed his bags, grabbed his cat, and headed for the door.

 

Someone was coming around in a few days to send his cooking appliances to his new address and his landlady was really nice about everything. Ryan Ross was going to get on a plane and leave Los Angeles, with no memories, and live a whole new live.

  
_____

 

Ryan Ross’s last memory was of him, Spencer, and Brendon cuddling on a couch and watching a documentary about penguins while it snowed in late February. They were eating pizza, drinking rootbeer, and Spencer’s fingers drummed on Ryan’s thigh while Brendon hid his face in Ryan’s neck as the TV narrated the gruesome death of penguins via seals. Ryan was jittery, slightly terrified of both of them pressed up against him but he steeled himself and relaxed, enjoying their warmth in the late winter.

 

_____

 

It was raining when Ryan landed. The clouds were twisting grey, stretching on for miles and the plane landed just in time before it could start lightening. Ryan had to take a cab to get to Georgetown and Captain Knots kept glaring at Ryan. All he could do was shrug and rub Knots until they purred. There was an enthusiastic lady waiting outside for Ryan when the cab pulled up. He tipped the driver a lot extra when he helped put Ryan’s stuff inside the building.

  
“Hello! You must be Mr. Ross, it’s nice to meet you, sir,” the lady grinned, extending a hand. Ryan shook it. “I’m Samantha, I’m the real estate agent.” He nodded, entering the building. She followed.

  
“I’m very pleased to welcome you to our Georgetown, hope you like it down here, it’s a lovely place.” Ryan nodded. The shop already had some chairs, he sat down in one. Samantha was very enthusiastic, waving her hands around, some of her brown hair spilling from her bun, as she told him all of the wonders of Georgetown, “We’re most famous for our rare breed of flowers called Tuslayas…” and the business’s potential profits, “There isn’t any Starbucks or Dunkin’ Donuts or whatever those dandy coffee chains are called, so people will love this place…” Ryan nodded along at all the right moments and told her little bits of himself and then Samantha left, leaving her business card and promising to come by when it opened up with her husband.

  
The walls needed to be repainted, but the flooring (a dark wooden furnish) was nice enough and worked well with the tables and chairs already there, and the appliances were all in pretty good condition according to Samantha. Ryan’s business was actually going to pull together. He went upstairs into the apartment (also in really good condition) and put all of his stuff away. He gave Cap’ some food and went downstairs, bringing with him his umbrella.

 

Pulling out his phone, he turned on maps, and found directions to the nearest hospital.

_____

 

Ryan Ross, even with his astounding genius (read: stupid) mind, decided to wait after moving across the country and making some major life decisions before visiting the doctors. They told him what he already knew, he had amnesia, and explained to him everything he already knew. They asked him if he needed to call anyone and he shook his head and explained that he didn’t but it’d be okay. They told him he’d probably remember what he forgot in a few days.

_____

 

Was it strange that Ryan Ross’s first instinct after losing his memories were to run away and leave behind everything to start a new life? For some reason, it wasn’t, not to Ryan. To Ryan, it was a golden ticket for starting over without the dread of bad memories weighing him down. Ryan’s most golden rule of the contingency plans was that if he was seriously in love and seriously settled with someone he’d tell them about the plans, that they’d know where to look and how to hold him, they’d know and be there for him. His contingency plans contingency planned that he wouldn’t need to do certain things if someone was there right beside him.

So it wasn’t strange for Ryan to leave because there was nothing there holding him down.

_____

 

He didn’t remember in a few days. It’s been a few months. He remembered bits and pieces of things, not really helpful information about him and Cap’ lounging on the couch watching reruns of cartoons and how it felt to get his tattoos. The coffee shop, dubbed Captain Knots, was doing well. His staff was nice, business was good, and no one really bothered Ryan. His head of staff, the quirky Molly, was always nice to him and although a prying little mongrel, always gave him the space to come to her or give her the information after gentle coaxing. For one, she knew he was in a band and after almost six months, she eventually learned that he had/still had amnesia and so he didn’t really know why he wasn’t in the band anymore.

Molly also knew his favorite drink (coffee, black, no sugar, no cream) and his favorite pastry (cinnamon buns) and his favorite sandwich (BLTs) and how he had a nervous tick of cracking his joints and how he hated spiders and how he had an extensive collection of scarves. It was quite beautiful really, how much pointless stuff Molly knew about him. The college sophomore was quite talkative and interested in knowing little details about her boss.

She also didn’t have a crush on him, he didn’t even have to worry about that, evidence from when he stumbled in on Molly shoving her girlfriend up against the back alley’s wall and shoving her tongue down her throat as she groped her chest. Yeah, definitely not into Ryan.

_____

 

Ryan Ross spent most days resisting the urge to look up stuff on Spencer and Brendon. It was maybe the most difficult urge he had. He didn’t want to know--actually, yes, yes he really, really did, but Ryan was so terrified of what he’d find out that he held himself back. What if their band was gone? What if they replaced him? What if they’d fallen in love? What if they hated him? No, no, no, Ryan wasn’t going to find out, he couldn’t, it would hurt too much.

(He had a contingency plan for that, for looking them up or rather, stopping himself from looking them up. He had put blocks on his computer for anything in relation to Panic! At the Disco, refused to play any music in the shop except for what he’d preapproved, and had little indentations on his arm from his fingers digging into the flesh, a way for him to make sure his fingers didn’t do what some traitorous part of his mind wanted him to do.)

_____

 

Ryan had been in Georgetown for thirteen months. His conversations with Gabe seemed to fade away, his urge to look up his past had dulled, and his contact list was filled with his newer friends. Molly was like a sister to him, and Leo, the bookstore owner from across the street (a twenty nine year old gay man with impeccable taste in jeans and blue eyes that were dark as hell, a dark scruff etching across his face), Leo’s brother (cute as hell Nick), and Samantha (who was really nice), although only a few years older than Ryan and a year younger than Leo, was like another mother to them all.

Ryan Ross now spent most days making coffee and cinnamon buns while singing to the Beatles and dancing across the shop. His workers and patrons all joined him. Captain Knots was maybe the most laid back coffee shop in the world and all the rage in Georgetown. People liked to come and take a sip or two, they didn’t mind Ryan’s random special occasions around the shop where everyone wore scarves and cowboy boots or his need to hide away for hours and refuse to eat for days, they understood him without needing to hear an explanation. Molly was also the most amazing buffer.

(“Molly,” Georgia, at fifteen years old, was the most avid customer who would come just to watch Ryan Ross be himself. Georgia thought he was fascinating and a perfect character study.

 

“Yes?”

“Why’s Ryan wearing a corset and a skirt? He does know that Miss Evangeline,” who was staring at Ryan with wide eyes, “is the pastor’s wife, right?”

“Yep.”

“Then why is he…oh my god, is he swiveling his hips? Are those even--is that even possible? Is he grinding the air!” Molly smirked.

“I knew it.”

“What?” Georgia’s face was still losing color as she witnessed Ryan’s parting mouth and how his eyes slipped open, black, with a heaving chest.

“He always gets hornier when he listens to Queen.”

“WHY?”

“I once got him to tell me that he had a thing for people with musical talent.”

“But why Queen?”

Molly winked, “Wide range. Think about what he’d sound like in bed.”

Georgia blushed.)

(Leo came by for his afternoon coffee, “Molly! Where’s Ryan?”

“Upstairs.” Leo raised a brow. She shrugged. “I don’t now, he doesn’t wanna come down.” He nodded and went to the back, heading up the stairs. Ryan always left his apartment unlocked in case someone needed him down in the shop. Ryan was curled up on his paisley couch, huddled beneath some blankets. Leo sat next to him and rubbed his back.

 

“What’s up?”

Ryan grumbled.

“What was that?” Leo leaned down.

“Not feeling well…”

“And why’s that?”

“Cuz…”

Leo rolled his eyes but let it slide, easing Ryan’s tensed back into relaxation.)

Molly was a tall girl with long legs, thin ankles, and a slim waist. Her hair was dyed a purplish blue and she wore bright lipstick to match her smile. Wrapped around her calf was a tattoo of a line from a song and little freckles dotted the curve of her eyebrow and chin. Leo was a few inches shorter than them, but the way he held himself made him seem taller. He was maturer, but also really strong for someone who sat around all day, flipping through pages. He also wore amazing jeans, a shirt Ryan wanted to tear off, and lips that Ryan wanted to bite. Ryan also wasn’t actually, actually attracted to Leo. Besides, Leo and his boyfriend Jason were super cute together. Ryan couldn’t get in the way of that.

“Ryan.” The man in question glanced up from his staring at the glass window and to the brown eyes of his head of staff.

“Yes, Molly?”

She slid into the spot next to him with a guiltily hopeful face shifting on her face. “So I know you don’t really like talking about bands and stuff and going to concerts,” Ryan’s eyes narrowed, “But would it be okay if I went to a concert tonight? This is their last show of the tour and it’s gonna be really awesome, I haven’t really heard much of their earlier stuff but these guys are really awesome, they’re called--”

  
Ryan slammed a hand over her mouth. “I don’t want to know what they’re called.” She licked his hand and he pulled it away.

  
“But--”

  
“No buts, I don’t wanna know. I’ll let you go see them as long as you don’t tell me who they are and start yabbering to me about them. I really, really, really don’t want to know anything.” Her eyes were wide and he shooed at her. “So go on, shoo, go to your concert. I don’t wanna hear a word, now shoo.” She nodded and scurried away.

  
Ryan stayed in his apartment for the rest of the day.

  
_____

 

Ryan Ross sometimes managed the front every now and then. He was doing it today because after the concert, Molly caught some sort of flu and had to stay home. He didn’t really mind.

  
He wasn’t really paying attention to the new customer when the doorbell chimed. He just continued writing down his ever growing list of supplies he needed from the store. The new customer did, in fact, bring with them the fresh smell of Tuslayas to fill the shop. They stepped up to the register and cleared their throat. “Hi can I have an iced tea, medium with lemon…” Ryan looked up at the man. He looked kinda familiar but Ryan was pretty sure this guy wasn’t from Georgetown. He had brown eyes, brown hair, and a brown beard.

  
Ryan nodded. “Sure, that’ll be two fifty.” Ryan looked up again from the register and the man was still staring. Ryan felt uncomfortable, he needed to make his drink but he was staring at Ryan, “Umm, are you okay, sir?”

The man blinked. “It’s Jon.”

  
“Are you okay, Jon?” Ryan turned away to start working on his drink.

  
“Uh…” he trailed off as Ryan leaned down to get a scoop or ice. He cleared his throat, “Not really…”

  
“Ryan,” Ryan Ross volunteered, standing back up and filling the cup with tea. “Ryan Ross. Nice to meet you.”

  
“Meet?” Jon’s voice seemed to choke on the word. Ryan almost huffed a laugh but instead glanced at the guy.

  
“Well yeah, Jon, we’ve only just met. Are you okay, did you get hit in the head by something?”

  
“Did you?”

  
Ryan’s eyebrows furrowed. “What?” Jon stared at him, mouth gaping. Ryan handed him his drink. “Well it was, uh, nice meeting you Jon. Are you sure you’re alright? I could give you some directions to the closest clinic.” Jon shook his head.

 

“No, I’m...uh, I’m alright.” Jon stumbled away, dazedly walking out of the store. Ryan watched him go as he wiped the counter.

 

 

Well that was strange.

_____

 

Jon came by the next day for breakfast and lunch and stared at Ryan whenever he was in the shop. Molly was still sick so Ryan had no one to talk to about the creepy Jon guy.

“Leo,” Ryan whispered in the phone from his apartment.

“Yes, Ross.”

“Please come over.”

“I’m kinda busy.”

“No you’re not, you’re reshelving books, come and I’ll give you free food.”

Leo was silent for a moment, the low slide of books shoved up against each other filled Ryan’s ears. “Why?”

“Because there’s this guy who’s new in town who keeps staring at me.”

“And you want me to what? Ask him to leave? Talk to him?”

Ryan huffed, “Just come over.” Leo hung up.

_____

 

Leo looked good. Real good. His pants were, if possible, tighter and his button up was a dark indigo, his scruff perfect and hair slicked back just enough. He leaned across the counter with a grin at Ryan’s dropping mouth. “Hey there.” Ryan smirked, leaning forward as well.

“Hell-o,” Leo rolled his eyes. Ryan leaned closer to his ears and whispered, “So you going out tonight with Jason?” He leaned back just in time to see Leo blush. Ryan laughed.

(Jon shifted uncomfortably in the corner, eyes narrowed at the pair. Even though Jon knew Ryan was seriously straight, he still didn’t like the idea of Ryan with anyone except him, Spencer, and Brendon.)

Leo changed the subject, “I want my iced coffee and scone. And,” he lowered his voice, “what does this guy look like?”

Ryan mumbled, “Corner, beard, iced tea.” Leo nodded and turned around when Ryan went to get his order. The guy was, in Leo’s opinion, actually quite attractive. And he was glaring at Leo, perfect. Leo, in a surprisingly good mood, strutted over to the man, hips swaying, and sat down next to him.

“Hello,” Leo smiled, wide and honest with a hint of teasing. Jon stared at him but gave him a grimace of a smile.

“Hi.”

“I’m Leo,” he extended his hand and Jon shook it.

“Jon.”

“Nice to meet you Jon,” he smiled before he leaned forward. Leo’s face went from nice to cruel in an instant. “I don’t know what your deal is, but you’re scarin’ Ryan and I think you’ll find that here in Georgetown, people care about him and we will hurt you if you do somethin’ stupid.” His southern twang bled out into the threat, so serious that it made Leo cringe. “So I suggest you don’t come ‘round here with that stare, show some people some respect.” Jon’s mouth dropped.

“What?”

“Look,” Leo let out a sigh, “Ryan’s had a good year, a really, really good year. He got away from whatever shit he was held up in and came here and he’s doing well. So if you’re planning to mess that up, if I don’t punch you, then Molly certainly will.”

“Molly?” Jon croaked before taking a sip of his iced tea.

Leo nodded, “Molly. And it would be best if you never, ever, ever got on her bad side. Ya’hear?” Jon nodded and took a sip of his drink. Leo nodded as well before getting up and collecting his order from Ryan. The brunette jumped up on the counter and slid across, jumping on the ground before pulling Leo in for a hug. Ryan was rarely excited or happy enough to do something like that so Leo grinned when it did, knowing that he was thankful for his talk with Jon.

“Leo Arthur Cane, I looooovvvveee you!” Ryan said it in a way that Leo knew was in equal parts honesty, sarcasm, affection, and amusement (Jon didn’t), so he knew it was all good.

  
Leo nodded, hugging the boy closer. “Good to hear.”

  
While Leo was walking out of the shop, Ryan called, “Have fun with Jaaaassson!”

  
Leo blushed and rushed to the other side of the street.

  
_____

 

Jon finished his drink and walked up to the counter. Ryan looked up at him and didn’t smile or frown. “Hey, um, sorry if I freaked you out.” (Jon was still confused as hell about why Ryan didn’t seem to recognize him.)

  
“It’s cool,” Ryan shrugged. (Jon had also never seen Ryan so loose around him.) “It was kind of weird.” Jon nodded.

  
“So, I’m new here and I’ll only be in town for a couple of days.”

  
“Oh cool, what for?” (Jon suppressed the urge to raise his eyebrow.)

  
“Tuslayas, they’re this--”

  
“--rare breed of flowers that only bloom here,” Ryan nodded, grinning, “That’s cool.”

  
“Yeah, and I’m a photographer.” Ryan’s eyes lit up.

  
“Photography? That’s sounds nice,” the boy grinned (this shocked Jon a lot) and nodded, confirming his own thoughts. “So you’re here for the Tuslayas.” Jon nodded.

  
“Yeah, do you know any good spots?”

 

“Oh,” Ryan frowned, “Sorry, I don’t. This is the first time I’ve seen them bloom. They were just a little out of season when I got here last year.”

  
“You’ve only been here for a year?” (Jon was shocked. His split with the band was four years ago. What the hell was he doing for three years?)

 

Ryan shrugged, “Yeah.”

 

“What made you choose Georgetown?” Jon looked around. “It’s nice but, uh…”

 

“It’s in the middle of nowhere,” Ryan grinned. “I don’t know anyone and no one knows me, it’s a perfect escape.” Jon’s eyebrows rose.

  
“Escape? From what?”

  
Ryan laughed. “Beats me if I knew.” Jon’s eyebrows rose. Ryan waved his hand.

  
Jon cleared his throat, suddenly uneasy. “Can I, uh, have your number? Incase I get lost or something?” Ryan smiled.

  
“Sure,” he nodded, pulling out his phone and shoving it into Jon’s hands. Jon was surprised to find his, Brendon, and Spencer’s contacts still there, but he made a new one for the new phone he got last month.

  
“It was nice to meet you,” Jon shook his head. “Do you not recognize me?”

  
Ryan’s head tilted, eyes squinting. “Should I?”

  
“I don’t know…” (Jon decided to find out what was up with Ryan later. He was more focused on the novelty of Ryan speaking to him.) “You just seem familiar.”

 

Ryan nodded, “I think I just have that kind of face.” (Ryan really, really, really didn’t have that kind of face. Whoever met him always remembered Ryan Ross. Jon nodded anyway.)

  
“Okay, well thanks.” Ryan smiled.

  
“Have a good day!”

  
_____

 

Four years ago, Ryan Ross quit from Panic! At the Disco. When confronted about the reason, a cold and angry man who resembled no characteristics of the Ryan Ross they loved spat out, “Because I don’t want to work with a bunch of fags.” Brendon cried, Spencer grew cold, and Jon felt anger well up in him as George Ryan Ross II slammed the door shut, leaving his guitar and friends behind. Ryan destroyed every bridge he had with Panic and any other band he knew. He became a recluse and no one’s spoken to him for years.

  
Except for one Gabe Saporta. Gabe was maybe the only person who knew what really happened (sort of, kinda, he’s got most bits down) but Gabe was also the only person who wouldn’t tell anyone the real reasons. Gabe was a firm believer in people making their own choices and how they need to fix it. So Gabe and Ryan talked and eventually…they stopped talking. Ryan disappeared from Gabe too, without a trace.

  
Gabe didn’t know where Ryan had gone. Just found out through his landlady that he packed up months ago and figured that hey, if Ryan wanted him to know, he would know. No one knew where Ryan Ross, lyricist, guitarist, overall extraordinaire, had went. That was, until one Jon Walker stumbled upon him.

  
_____

 

Ryan Ross often updated his contingency plans. He also, sometimes, when he’s really bored, scrolls through them all. He looked at his contingency plan for Spencer, Brendon, and there was even one for Jon No Last Name (not his Jon, not the one he met yesterday). There was a plan for if Spencer and Brendon got together or if Spencer and Jon No Last Name got together or if Brendon and Jon No Last Name got together. He wondered why he needed that and who this Jon was.

  
Ryan had bunches of contingency plans. Right now, he was putting the final touches to Contingency 2.3: If Captain Knots Caught on Fire (NOT CAT, REPEAT--CAT NOT ON FIRE, STORE IS). His plan included: grabbing Captain Knots (the cat), shoving Molly out the door, and picking up some cinnamon buns on the way out. (Earlier it didn’t have Molly in the plan, but that was before he knew she was super important to his well being.)

  
_____

 

>  

Ryan Ross had bits and pieces of a song stuck in his head. He didn’t know where it came from, if it was already written, it was only a hint of a memory. Little snippets like “With playful lips made of yarn…Please forget to fall down…” and lines “Melt your headaches, call it home” stuck in his head. He didn’t think they were from the same song and the background noise faded in and out at the same time, stuck on repeat in the wrong places. There was this one piece of bass and drum that rolled across his mind and there was this whisper of “Moon” that echoed in his ears and it reminded him of Brendon and he always felt worse when heard that “Moon”, “Moon”, “Moon”.

 

He’s gotten a few memories back, one, specifically of Brent’s departure rang loud in Ryan’s ears, but not much else came back to him. He had wisps of memories that took up his mind, but Ryan didn’t pry, more likely shoved them away.

  
_____

 

Jon:

 

 

> Hey.

  
Ryan:

 

>   
>  Hi. :)

  
Jon:

 

>   
>  do u wanna get coffee?

  
Ryan:

 

>   
>  Jon.

 

Jon:

 

>   
>  yes?

  
Ryan:

 

 

> You do realize I own a coffee shop right?

  
Jon:

 

>   
>  shit

  
Jon:

 

>   
>  fuck

  
Jon:

 

>   
>  Sorz. Forgot.

  
Jon:

 

>   
>  do u still wanna get coffee?

  
Ryan:

 

>   
>  I can do you better, come by around six and I’ll make us some dinner.

  
Jon:

 

>   
>  u can cook?!?!?

  
Ryan:

 

>   
>  Uh, yeah? I’m pretty good at it if I do say so myself.

  
Jon:

 

>   
>  cool it’s a date

  
Ryan:

 

>   
>  Uh…it’s not a date…Jon

  
Jon:

 

>   
>  shit, sorry, not an actual date, sorry I knew that. It was just a phrase--I’m uh, already in a relationship--sorry.

  
Ryan:

 

>   
>  It’s cool

  
Ryan:

 

>   
>  I’m just already in a relationship.

  
Jon:

 

>   
>  Oh? With who? What’s her name?

  
Ryan:

 

>   
>  It’s my cat. We’re pretty serious. We’ve reached some pretty high levels of our relationship. I don’t think there’s room for another. Sorry. :/

  
Jon:

 

>   
>  Haha! Lol. :D That’s perf. I wouldn’t want to come between u 2.

  
Ryan:

 

>   
>  Thank you Jon. It means a lot to me for you to say that. Your blessing means so much.

  
Jon:

 

>   
>  *bows lowly*

  
_____

 

Ryan was wearing a black vest, a red shirt, jeans, and mismatched socks when he opened the door for Jon. Jon was still wearing his black t-shirt, flip flops, and jeans with sunglasses. “Hey, come on in, hope you like fettuccine alfredo with peppers and chicken.”

  
“That sounds lovely, I brought wine.” Jon raised a bottle. Ryan shrugged, walking towards the kitchen.

 

“I don’t drink but the thoughts nice.” (Jon’s eyebrow rose. When did Ryan stop drinking?)

  
“Oh, sorry.” Ryan nodded. Ryan's kitchen, Jon realized, was maybe the most lived in room of the apartment. Papers and journals were shoved along the counters with pots, pans, and numerous other baking utensils scattered. The Ryan Jon knew rarely ate, but this, this was an eater's paradise.

  
"Sorry for the mess, I'm in here a lot."

  
"You like to cook?" Jon sat down on one of the wooden chairs. The kitchen was a soft yellow with green counters and a light blue tablecloth. Ryan pulled out two glasses and handed one to Jon. Ryan filled his own glass with iced tea.

  
He took a sip. "Its one of my favorite hobbies."

  
"Yeah?" Jon wasn't sure who this Ryan was. "What else do you like to do?"

  
Ryan shrugged, "I write a bit and used to play guitar." He stirred the food in the frying pan. "It doesn't really matter. I stopped a while back." Jon quirked his eyebrow.

  
"Why?" Ryan grew quiet, shrugging.

  
"I don't know." It was true but Jon didn't know that. "It doesn't matter, what about you?"(Jon had to suppress his anger at Ryan's dismissal of the split.) Ryan scooped them both some dishes of pasta and brought them over with him.

  
"Besides photography?" Jon searched Ryan's eyes. "I play bass." Ryan nodded, taking a bite of his food.

  
"You in a band?"

  
Jon nodded, hesitantly, "Yeah, we're good."

  
"That's nice. So how long are you going to be in Georgetown? Where are you staying?"

  
Jon's brows kept quirking. "You’re not gonna ask what band I'm in?" Ryan shook his head.

  
"I'm not really into that scene." They both knew it was a lie. "So...?"

  
"I'll be here until Friday," it was Tuesday, "And then I'll head out to Los Angeles to meet up with the guys."

 

"Yeah? Where?"

  
"In a really crappy apartment," Ryan laughed, "was there until I got my degree and then moved out here." (Jon was shocked. He didn’t know Ryan went to college, much less thought he would. Ryan just didn’t seem like the type.) “So where are you from?”

  
“Chicago,” Jon grinned, “and you?” (Jon still wasn’t really sure why Ryan was pretending he didn’t know Jon. Jon decided to just go with it until Ryan’s facade broke. Ryan Ross, Jon Walker knew, was very bad at keeping up facades.)

  
“Las Vegas.”

  
“You ever plan going back there?” Ryan shook his head, took another bite of pasta.

  
“No. My dad’s still there.” (Jon almost choked. Ryan’s dad was dead. He’d been like that for years. Why did he think his dad was there?)

  
“You, uh, not have a good relationship with him?” Ryan shook his head and looked away. They weren’t exactly having the smoothest of conversations.

  
Ryan changed the topic, “So how do you like Georgetown?”

  
“It’s really nice,” Jon sipped his alcohol. “I think Captain Knots is maybe my favorite spot.”

  
“Is it now…”

  
“Yep,” Jon nodded, “Lots of pretty things.” Ryan smirked.

  
“Captain Knots has Georgetown’s finest.”

  
“Yes it does.” Jon grinned.

  
_____

 

Ryan and Jon talked for the rest of the evening, light airy conversation. Ryan only offered him dinner because Jon seemed really interested in him for some reason, so he indulged for the stranger. He’d be leaving in a few days, no harm, no foul. Plus, Ryan thought Jon was cute, might as well meet the guy. Ryan was kind of confused throughout the evening. Jon would often get this look in his eyes like he knew more to Ryan’s stories and that Ryan was skipping over details about his own history. He always gave Ryan this expectant look but Ryan didn’t know what he wanted him to say.

  
They strayed from certain topics. Ryan’s past, Jon’s band, Ryan and music, Jon’s relationship, Los Angeles, and Las Vegas. It was a little forced, but Jon always rolled with whatever direction Ryan was heading for. It worked, Ryan was thankful, they continued talking.

  
_____

 

Jon came by Wednesday and Thursday to the shop. They talked a lot about lots of things and Ryan showed him to the little places around town that he knew. Jon took pictures of Tuslayas (and unknowingly Ryan (mostly of his silhouette)) and Ryan brought food. Jon asked if he could keep texting Ryan after he left and Ryan shrugged, saying he thought they were going to do that anyway.

  
_____

 

Jon decided to wait on telling Brendon and Spencer that he met up with Ryan. He was still trying to figure out why Ryan didn’t seem to recognize him.

  
_____

 

Friday at Captain Knots was cowboyz and cowgirlz day. Molly was still sick to Ryan’s anguish (he texted her girlfriend, Jess, to make sure she got better) and was left with Felicity, Miranda, and Chris to wear ridiculous clothes. Ryan Ross was wearing tight jeans with a large belt buckle, cowboy boots, a rustic vest, a red button up, and a bandana. More club-like music played in the shop and Miranda took to grinding up against Ryan as Felicity knocked their hips together. It was really funny, especially because Chris kept snorting in his drink and staring at their boobs. (Chris was jealous because the two girls were grinding up against the gay man when there was a perfectly well-straight man who’d appreciate the action. It was wasted on Ryan.)

  
Jon entered the store and dropped his book immediately at the sight, flushing. Ryan grinned at him and untangled himself from the girls before strutting over to the other man. “Jon! Jonny Boy! What can I get you?”

 

Ryan was hanging all over Jon, the high of music and dancing still hazing his mind. Jon cleared his throat, suddenly dry. “A water.”

  
“Perfect,” Ryan grinned and pulled away, tearing heat with him. He jumped over the counter and Chris moved aside. “Do you want anything to eat?” Ryan called. His hips were swaying, butt wiggling for everyone to see. (Those jeans though. Jon was helpless to the jeans.) (And Ryan’s butt.) “A cinnamon bun?”

  
Ryan actually (I-shit-you-not) moaned at the idea. “Cinnamon buns! My favorite!” Jon looked up just in time to see Ryan look back and lick his lips. And god his lips…Jon stumbled to a chair and studiously placed his bag on top of his crotch.  
The brunette came over with Jon’s food and sat down across from him, pouting. “You’re leaving today aren’t you, Jon?” Jon nodded and Ryan bit his lip, pouting further. “That sucks. We were just getting to normalcy! We had a routine Jon!” Jon nodded solemnly.

  
“Yes we did, Ryan, and for that, I apologize.” Ryan looked far away with his hand covering his heart.

  
“I will miss you! But,” he peeked at Jon. “I shall accept your apology.” Ryan broke out into giggles and Jon couldn’t help but smile. Goddammit Ryan and his giggles. “Don’t forget to text me!”

  
_____

 

Jon:

>   
>  Just landed.

  
Ryan:

>   
>  Cool! I’m eating cinnamon buns.

  
Jon:

>   
>  do u <3 cinnamon buns?

 

Ryan:

>   
>  Cinnamon buns are life.

  
Jon:

>   
>  tru

  
_____

 

“Ryan!” Ryan looked up. Molly was pointing at Ryan. Ryan Ross stumbled around the counter and lunged for the girl.

  
“You’re alive!” Molly was sick for a whole two weeks. “AHHH!”

  
Molly snorted. “You saw me two days ago!”

>   
>  “Anything could happen!” Really. Ryan Ross had a contingency plan for Molly dying. It involved a lot of tears and black clothes. He really began to depend on her and Leo.

  
_____

 

Jon:

>   
>  kay, wat do u do if ur bf decides to show up to a party in tight jeans and an even tighter v-neck???

  
Ryan:

>   
>  Kiss him??? How would I know Jon? It’s YOUR boyfriend. Can’t you like kiss him or something?

  
Jon:

>   
>  its complicated

  
Ryan:

>   
>  Why?

  
Jon:

>   
>  im in relationship with 2 ppl

  
Ryan:

>   
>  Oh.

  
Ryan:

 

> So what’s the issue?

  
Jon:

>   
>  my bfs are publicly together but i’m not

  
Ryan:

>   
>  That’s complete shit. Go public with your loves Jon.

  
Ryan:

>   
>  Do they not want to?

  
Ryan:

>   
>  Are they ashamed or something? What the fuck Jon, why aren’t you all together?

  
Ryan:

  
Jon?

  
Ryan:

>   
>  JON?

  
Ryan:

>   
>  JON?!?!!

  
Ryan:

>   
>  JON???

  
Ryan:

>   
>  Jon???

  
Ryan:

>   
>  …Jon?

  
Jon:

>   
>  just made out with my bfs

  
Jon:

>   
>  in front of every1

  
Jon:

>   
>  their all clapping

  
Jon:

>   
>  Ryan?

  
Ryan:

>   
>  Good for you Jon.

  
Jon:

>   
>  Thnx :D

  
_____

 

“RYAN!” Molly shouted. Ryan looked up from his book. Molly, sweet, sweet Molly, was pale and staring at Ryan like he was a ghost.

 

“Yes?” She stumbled over to him and shoved her phone in his face. It took him a moment but he was looking at himself. On his own Wikipedia page.

  
“You’re famous.” Ryan coughed, looking away, suddenly uncomfortable.

  
“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?”

 

“Because I don’t want to think about it.”

  
“But--but, you’re famous. And in a band--”

  
“--was in a band--”

  
“--with Panic! At the Disco! They’re my favorite band! Why didn’t you tell me? You could totally get me tickets, Ryan, why didn’t you tell me! Ryan! Ryan, you’re from Panic! At the--”

  
“Molly,” his voice was deadly serious, a low whisper. Molly’s mouth snapped shut. “I can’t get you tickets.”

  
“But…”

  
“I’m not with them anymore,” she nodded, eyes wide, “and I don’t know why.”

  
“What?”

  
“Molly,” he sighed, “I don’t remember what happened.”

  
“What?”

  
“Because I have amnesia,” he spelled it out for her and her eyes went wide.

  
“But!”

  
“Molly, I don’t know what happened but whatever did, it caused me to lose Brendon and Spencer and left me in a crappy apartment and no friends. I don’t want to think about it.”

  
Molly sat down and took his hand. “Oh Ryan.” He rubbed his face and picked up his book. He nodded and she sat with him for a while, rubbing his hand and looking out the windows.

  
It began to pour.

  
_____

 

Ryan Ross, with all of his contingency plans, even had a biological contingency plan for foul new scenarios. It involved lashing out, breaking everything in sight, and running away.

  
Ryan Ross, with his biological contingency plan, ruined everything he ever could’ve had when he caught Jon Walker, Spencer Smith, and Brendon Urie together. Together. Naked and moaning and touching and, and, and--

  
Ryan Ross, with all of his contingency plans, didn’t have a contingency plan for the three people most important to him being together without him.

  
_____

 

Ryan Ross woke up one night in cold sweat, blankets shoved off the bed and tears staining his cheeks.

  
George Ross was dead.

  
_____

 

Jon:

>   
>  Ryan?

  
Ryan:

>   
>  Yes, Jon?

  
Jon:

>   
>  have u ever been in love?

  
Ryan:

>   
>  Yes, Jon, I have.

  
Jon:

 

> r u now?

  
Ryan:

>   
>  No, Jon, I’m not in a relationship.

  
Jon:

>   
>  that’s not what i asked

  
Jon:

>   
>  Ryan?

  
Jon:

>   
>  …

  
Jon:

>   
>  Ryan?

  
Ryan:

>   
>  I don’t know how to answer your question Jon.

  
Jon:

>   
>  y?

  
Jon:

>   
>  …

  
Jon:

>   
>  Ryan?

  
Jon:

>   
>  Ryan?

  
Jon:

>   
>  …

  
Ryan:

>   
>  Can we talk about something else?

  
Jon:

>   
>  kk

  
_____

 

Molly, although explicitly told not to talk to Ryan about Panic, talked to him a lot about Panic. “But Ryan!” she waved her phone at his face. “Brendon has the funniest tweets!”

  
Ryan didn’t have any social media. He closed all of his accounts as soon as he got to Georgetown, made new ones under a false name, and rarely used them. “I don’t care, I don’t want to know what Brendon tweets.”

  
Molly pouted, “But…”

  
Ryan shook his head, “I really, really don’t want to know.”

  
“Can I at least show you Jon’s instagram? He’s really good at photography and has like a whole separate account full of pictures not involving the band--can I show you some?” Ryan let out a huff. He didn’t know who this Jon was (probably Jon No Last Name) but Molly was already pulling up the app and shoving the phone in his face again.

  
Jon had really good photos. He seemed to go into the wilderness and just take photos of all the beauties nature had to offer. And he was good at it. Really good at it. Were all Jons good at photography? There were also a bunch of great photos of the city life and sky lines at sunset. There was, however, one photo that Ryan couldn’t stop staring at.

  
Four sets of ankles and feet were all there was, long pale legs, pressed up against each other. Ryan knew, without a thought, which legs were Brendon’s and Spencer’s and his and Jon No Last Name’s. A ghost impression of sweaty skin spread across his legs. 

He didn’t know what else happened in that memory, just sweaty skin, the rumble of Spencer’s chest and Brendon’s fading laugh.

  
_____

 

Jon told Spencer and Brendon about Ryan a few hours after coming home. There was a lot of yelling and fighting and then there was a lot of kissing and fucking. Ryan twisted them so easily, even when he wasn’t there.

  
Spencer and Brendon wanted to talk to Ryan, they wanted to see him and punch him and ask him so many unanswered questions. Jon told him about how Ryan acted like he didn’t know Jon and how he didn’t know what that meant. He told them how Ryan named a coffee shop after his cat and how he thought his dad was still alive and that he didn’t drink or write and that he could bake and that cinnamon buns were his favorite. And that he looked really, really good.

  
He whispered how good Ryan looked into Spencer’s ear and told what he wanted to do with Ryan into Brendon’s sweat slick skin. And then they gasped and cried and moaned, telling Jon how much they wanted it. Wanted Ryan. Wanted them all together.  
It ached after, knowing that what they wanted wasn’t there. It was still back in Georgetown. (With no memories.)

  
_____

 

Ryan hasn’t had sex in three years and doesn’t even know it.

  
He also didn’t have a problem with it. He had become so disconnected to his sexual desires that it just felt uncomfortable to think about doing anything more than making out and a little bit of grinding. He hadn’t thought about blow jobs or hand jobs or even full on penetration in months, and when he did, he freaked out for a good twenty minutes about how that even worked.

 

(He freaked about doing that with one person. His mind probably wouldn’t survive if he thought about doing that with two or even three people at once.)

  
Ryan is a delicate flower.

  
_____

 

[A/N: I’m so sorry, this is my horrible attempt at creating twitter accounts. I’m not really sure what the band’s twitter accounts are. I also don’t really understand twitter. Sorry.]

 

panickingatthediscowithgerardway:

>   
>  @JonWalker who’s the photo of?

  
The photo in question was the one of Ryan. The silhouette of him picking Tuslayas while the sun set. You couldn’t tell who it was, just the ridges of their back, curving down, and the dip of their nose.

JonWalker:

 

> @panickingatthediscowithgerardway a long lost friend

  
BrendonUrie:

>   
>  @JonWalker is that who I think that is?

  
JonWalker:

>   
>  @BrendonUrie yeah…

  
BrendonUrie:

>   
>  @JonWalker why haven’t I seen these photos sooner? @SpencerSmith look what Jon’s hid from us!

  
SpencerSmith:

>   
>  @JonWalker, @BrendonUrie it’s so pretty…

  
PeteWentz:

>   
>  @JonWalker yo, JWalk, who’s that?

  
PatrickStump:

>   
>  @PeteWentz Pete, take a close look and think: Who does Jon not have a bunch of photos of but wishes he really, really did?

  
PeteWentz:

>   
>  @JonWalker, @PatrickStump OHHHHHH!!! YOU FOUND HIM!!

  
heymoondontfall:

>   
>  @Jon Walker WHO IS IT??? WHO IS THIS PERSON????

  
_____

 

It was three months later that Ryan finally told him. Ryan was having a meltdown and his mind kept mulling and turning over all of these little thoughts and details that kept blurring and bleeding all over the place. Nothing made sense and he needed someone to know. He needed someone to know. Molly was home, Leo was out with Jason, it was two twenty three in the morning and Ryan couldn’t sleep.

  
Ryan:

>   
>  Jon.

  
Ryan:

>   
>  Jon.

  
Jon:

>   
>  yes Ry?

  
Ryan:

 

> I need to tell you something.

  
Jon:

>   
>  what is it?

  
Jon:

>   
>  Ryan?

  
Jon:

>   
>  Ry?

  
Jon:

>   
>  did you kill someone?

  
Jon:

>   
>  are you dying?

  
Jon:

 

> is someone pregnant?

  
Ryan:

>   
>  I have amnesia.

 

Ryan’s phone lit up, the caller ID showing it was Jon. Ryan Ross, excessively reluctantly, unlocked his phone and answered the call.

  
“How the hell did you get amnesia?” Jon’s voice was low and gravely and seriously serious.

  
“I don’t know. It happened over a year ago. I woke up one morning with a huge chunk of my life missing.”

  
“Why didn’t anyone know about this?”

  
Ryan let out a bitter laugh. “Apparently I burned every bridge I had. There was no one to tell.” Over the line, Ryan could hear someone shuffling beside Jon, grumbling. Ryan’s stomach clenched. “Sorry, sorry, you’re with your boyfriends. Go back to sleep.”

  
“Wait, Ry--”

 

“Goodnight, Jon.”

  
Ryan hung up and got out of bed. He turned on the kitchen lights and pulled out ingredients for an apple tart, turning on the oven. Ryan’s phone buzzed three times but he refused to answer it.

  
_____

 

Pete:

>   
>  Brendon.

  
Brendon:

>   
>  yeah?

  
Pete:

>   
>  y do u all look like u just found out santa’s not real

  
Brendon:

>   
>  HE’S NOT REAL?!?!?!?!?!

  
Pete:

>   
>  Brendon

  
Brendon:

>   
>  ‘pparently, Ryro has amnesia

  
Pete:

>   
>  wtf?

  
Brendon:

>   
>  ikr we don’t even no y or 2 what extent

  
Pete:

>   
>  y? why the hell not?!?!

  
Brendon:

>   
>  cuz, Ryro’s only in contact w/ J n Ryro ‘pparently doesnt no J

  
Pete:

>   
>  wtf?

  
Brendon:

>   
>  yeah, we don’t no what 2 do

  
_____

 

PeteWentz:

>   
>  Ryan Ross, please call.

  
_____

 

PatrickStump:

>   
>  Ryan, buddy, call. Soon.

  
_____

 

GerardWay:

>   
>  Ry, please, please call.

  
_____

 

Ryan’s phone lit up. It was three days after he told Jon. He was still a struggling to get a grip on everything. Little details kept seizing his throat and blinding his eyes. Yelling and shouting thrummed in his ears, echoing in his head hours later. He answered it without answering.

  
It was Gabe.

  
“Yo, Ryan, you need to come back ASAP.”

  
“Hello, Gabe. How are you?”

  
“Fine. Get your ass back home.”

  
“And why,” Ryan sat on one of the counters, “would I do that?”

  
“Dude, where the hell have you even been for the past year?”

  
“Georgetown.”

  
“Georgetown? Where is that?”

  
“The middle of nowhere,” Ryan grinned. “So? What’s up? How the tour been? I heard your new album. It was good.”

  
“The fuck are you, Ross?”

  
“Georgetown, I’ll send you my address. You should come hang. We could have a party.”

  
“Ryan, I swear on the Cobra, I will kick your ass. Why are you in Georgetown?” Ryan shrugged.

  
“Needed a change in scenery,” Ryan lied.

  
“I’ll be there tomorrow.”

  
Gabe hung up on him.

  
_____

 

Gabe called Pete. “Are we going to have an intervention or something down there?”

  
Pete snorted, “I’m assuming you got the address?”

  
“Yeah, Ryan, doesn’t know what’s gonna hit him. Literally, he won’t have the slightest hint on all of us coming, amnesia will do that.”

  
“How the hell did he even get amnesia?”

  
“Knowing Ross, he probably tripped on his own feet and knocked himself out.”

  
“Only Ryan.” Pete shook his head. Only Ryan.

  
_____

 

ferardlover68:

>   
>  What happened to Ryan Ross?

  
ukeletylerdunn:

>   
>  I don’t even know--why do Gerard Way, Patrick Stump, and Pete Wentz want him to call?

  
brencer235:

>   
>  Ryan Ross suckz.

  
joncer16996:

>   
>  shitty at guitarist too, wat r even his lyrics supposed 2 mean?

  
ryroluver:

>   
>  @brencer235, @joncer16996 RYAN ROSS IS A BEAUTIFUL HUMAN BEING!
> 
> [*inserts Mushu Dishonor Gif*](https://38.media.tumblr.com/0e2c168bf03ae6f1a3d6025b6f7c8218/tumblr_mqpcv92gCr1stg4aco1_250.gif)

_____

 

Molly stared wide eyed at Ryan. He looked up and finally snapped. “What!”

 

“Did you know Gerard Way?” There was a hint of awe in her voice and Ryan frowned.

  
“I don’t think so.” (He actually did, they used to play Dance, Dance Revolution together during tours.)

  
“But you knew Patrick Stump and Pete Wentz.”

  
Ryan nodded. “Yeah, well, I think so. I don’t know.”

  
“They want you to call them.”

  
“What?”

  
Molly slid her phone across the table. Ryan lifted it up and found the tweets. Huh. Why would they want to talk to him?

  
“Huh.” Ryan didn’t have a contingency plan for this.

  
“Yeah,” Molly nodded, staring at Ryan like he was either an alien or a god. “Yeah, you, should, uh, call them.” Ryan got up and went to the backroom. It was drizzling outside.

  
Ryan looked down at his phone, finger hovering over the call button. He pressed his finger down before pressing his phone to his ear.

  
“Hello? Ryan?”

  
Ryan didn’t answer for a moment. “Is he happy? Is Spencer happy?”

  
“Yeah, he’s happy.” Ginger sighed, “Oh, Ryan. Why didn’t you call sooner? It’s been years, I’ve been worried sick about you.” Ryan let out a shaky breath.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Ryan,” Ginger’s voice was always soft, and coaxing, “he misses you too.”

  
“I doubt it,” Ryan bit his lip. “Thank you.” Ginger was silent and Ryan hung up.

  
_____

 

“Ryan?”

  
“Hey, Patrick,” Ryan talked really fast, needing to get to the point as soon as possible. “I don’t know why you all wanted me to call you and I don’t care. I’m not coming back or anything like that--I’m not…I’m not going to break anything else. So stop trying to contact me and make sure Gabe knows I sent him the wrong address because--”

  
“--Ryan--”

  
“--I don’t want him to get on a plane to the wrong place--”

  
“--Ryan--”

  
“--Bye, Patrick.” He hung up.

  
_____

 

Molly knew that Ryan had a friend named Jon who he met while she was sick and left for home before she got back. Molly knew little bits and pieces about Jon. She knew what he liked to eat (scones) and his favorite shoes (flip flops) and how he would touch his beard unconsciously. Molly liked to think Ryan had a bit of a crush on Jon what with him knowing so much about the stranger.

 

_____

 

Gerard Way, when asked about Ryan Ross, would tell anyone about a gifted boy with too much weight on his shoulders and not enough trust to share the burden. He would talk about a strong broken person and how Ryan Ross could dance when he actually tried and that Ryan Ross knows his body and just how to use it. He would tell them about Ryan Ross in lazy afternoons, twirling line after line of poetry on anyone’s skin and how when he thought no one was looking, he’d always have this grin on his face as long as Spencer or Jon or Brendon were in the room.

  
He would tell them about a boy in love who could hide it like no other.

 

_____

 

Jon’s plane landed at six thirty in the morning. Spencer’s and Brendon’s would land at ten. He got a cab and told him to step on it; he needed to be somewhere.

  
_____

 

Molly, surprisingly, was the most awake person at seven in the morning. Ryan hated her for this little fact, still trying to rub what little sleep he had out of his eyes. He stopped eating a while back and the shadows under his eyes were dark. He kept having dreams with lots of shouting and yelling and his own cold voice and slamming doors and tears and alcohol slipping down his throat and lots and lots of seizing muscles. Captain Knots had been giving him looks and not even the cat’s head brushing up against his face could comfort him.

  
Ryan was stirring his coffee, the rain was pouring, and Molly dropped her book on the floor. Ryan looked up, squinting at her. “What?” Molly was gaping, eyes wide, and squeaking.

  
“Jon Walker.”

  
“Huh? What?”

  
Molly pointed at a figure getting out of a cab across the street. “That’s Jon Walker. From Panic! At the Disco. He’s here, oh my god, why is he in Georgetown?” Ryan looked over and spilled his coffee.

  
Jon Walker, bassist for Panic! At the Disco and Mr. Jon No Last Name, was his Jon. The Jon he met four months ago. Jon who was in a relationship with two guys. Jon was Jon Walker. “Holy shit.” Ryan grabbed Molly and pulled her into the back room, locking themselves in the closet.

  
“What?” Molly hissed, she reached for the doorknob but Ryan grabbed her hand, tightly. “There’s a rockstar out there.”

  
“Molly,” Ryan whispered. She stopped, looked up at Ryan.

  
“Ry?”

  
“Do you remember Jon? My friend?”

  
“Yeah?”

  
“I think he’s also Jon Walker.”

  
“WHAT?”

  
“I. Think. He’s also. Jon. Walker.”

  
“HOW DID YOU NOT EVEN REALIZE THAT THAT WAS JON WALKER?”

  
“Amnesia,” Ryan hissed. Molly slumped back against the wall.

  
“Jesus,” she looked at him, “what’s the last thing you remember?”

  
“Brent was with the band.” Molly’s eyes popped out of her head.

  
“You’re missing a good six years of memory Ryan!”

  
“I know, I know.”

 

“Why the hell didn’t you look up what happened?”

  
“I…” Ryan choked on his own words, “I couldn’t--I didn’t want to--knowing why I wasn’t with Spencer and Brendon would’ve hurt so much--I couldn’t--I--”

 

Molly dragged Ryan in for a hug as tears fell down his face. He tried to breathe, couldn’t breathe, Molly’s hand rubbed at his back, shhing him every few moments. “Ryan.”

  
“Wha--what do I--” Ryan pulled away and wiped his eyes, “what do I do? What do I do, Molly?”

  
She sighed. “You need to go out there and talk to him." Ryan trembled, shaking his head.

  
"I--I can't do this." Molly's eye were wide.

  
"Wait--Ryan--" Ryan unlocked the door and stumbled out. He caught sight of Jon, Jon Walker, Jon No Last Name and felt his stomach lurch. He crashed against the doorway for a moment before he sprinted up his steps. "Ryan!"

  
Ryan heard her footsteps and slammed his door shut, locking all three of his locks before sliding to the floor. He rested his head on his knees and listened to his breath come out in quick, jerky pants. Molly pounded on the door.

  
"Ryan!"

  
He didn't answer.

 

"Ryan, open up!"

 

He didn't answer.

  
"You can't hide in there forever."

 

He didn't answer.

  
Molly huffed, her feet stomping down the stairs echoing in his ears.

  
_____

 

Molly stepped up to the register and grinned weakly at Jon Walker. “Hi, welcome to Captain Knots, what can I get you?”

  
“Uh,” Jon shucked off his jacket, “can I speak to Ryan?” Molly made a noise.

  
“He’s, um, not here? Right now,” she finished, posing it as a question. Jon frowned.

  
“Do you know when he’ll be back?” Molly shook her head.

  
“Would you like some coffee?”

  
Jon nodded. “Yeah, can I also get a muffin? And chill out here?”

  
Molly hummed, nodding as she scribbled something on paper. “Yeah.” Jon nodded and sat down in the corner.

  
_____

 

Ryan pulled at his hair, eyes wide and crazed as he scrolled through the pages. Desperately clicking on links and typing on the keyboard, fingers stuttering along the space bars and shift key. There was a plan for this. There had to be. There was a plan, there was a plan--there needed to be a plan.

  
Ryan was trying to break his web blocks and was trying to find a plan. There needed to be a plan. Fucking contingency plans were made for a goddamn reason. He bit at his lip, tapped his foot, jittered his knee, and clawed at his neck. Jon, Jon, Jon, Jon.  
Jon, Jon, Jon. Jon was a bassist. For Panic! At the Disco. Jon liked tea and chocolate muffins and wore flip flops with his jeans and would stare at Ryan and had two boyfriends--oh god. Ryan slammed to a stop, paused, mulling over, over, over that one little thought. Jon had two boyfriends. Jon was the bassist for Panic! At the Disco. Jon had two boyfriends.

  
Ryan choked, digging his nails into his wrists. He had a plan for Spencer and Brendon. One for Brendon and Jon. And one for Jon and Spencer.

  
Jon and Spencer and Brendon and oh god, oh god.

  
_____

 

Spencer dragged Brendon in for a kiss backstage after a concert. Spencer and Brendon, of course, didn’t know that Ryan saw. They thought they were discreet and stuff, but Ryan did see. He saw how Spencer’s tongue licked into Brendon’s mouth and he saw how Brendon’s hands clung to Spencer’s back and he heard their breathing and their barely concealed noises.

  
Ryan had a plan for this. He slowly walked away and went to go find Jon to hang out with. They played Go Fish with a deck of cards and ate potato chips. When he talked to Spencer and Brendon, he did it like he usually did. His eyes stopped straying to his friends and he slowly pulled away from the two physically. Their hugs didn’t linger and their conversations never strayed to sex.

  
Ryan’s contingency plans were perfect. He let his two best friends love each other and he didn’t get burned. He shoved aside his feelings and fantasies and just thought about his new lyrics.

  
And if there were a few lines about unrequited love, then that was just what the music called for. Nothing more or less.

  
_____

 

It was a sweet May night when Ryan found Jon, Spencer, and Brendon together There was a fiesta earlier, a huge party thrumming through the house. Ryan got lost in it, in his fruity drinks and the salsa dip. He danced with Gabe and Gee and Mikey and even Pete for a while. But now, in the early morning hours, the party was dying down and Ryn was still tipsy. He wondered if he could find Jon. Jon. Ryan liked Jon. He thought Jon was awesome. Ryan also though awesome people deserved kisses. Maybe he should kiss Jon… Ryan stumbled across a room. There were some interesting noises coming out from it.

  
_____

 

Spencer Smith stumbled upon the file a few months before Ryan left the band. Ryan was out clubbing probably (he really wasn’t, he was actually at a coffee shop reading The Hunger Games because he was too embarrassed to admit wanting to read the teen novel) and getting laid. Brendon was snoozing just behind Spencer, tired from their latest show.

The drummer liked to dig up stuff to blackmail Ryan with, so he clicked on the Word document that he found. It was fucking long from what Spencer could tell and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it was until he was ten pages into the thing. Whenever Ryan began writing this, he just threw himself into it, writing and blabbering his thoughts about what he’d do if he ever met William Beckett (which he has) which somehow transitioned into the first thing he’d do as a unicorn. Spencer slowly (around page twenty) began to realize that these were all what if scenarios that Ryan had constructed, plans and all. Spencer scratched at his beard, wondering if there was anything about him…

  
Ryan had, to Spencer’s surprise, put a lot of thought into Spencer and Brendon getting together. And… that explained a lot of things, Spencer realized as it listed all the things Ryan had started doing. He had noticed Ryan drifting away from them. Spencer wondered how he found out. Also, why didn’t Ryan seem to notice Brendon and his gestures to join them? Like seriously, they were serious gestures of join us, eyebrow waggles and all.

  
Spencer eventually stumbled upon a plan called If Panic! Broke Up and promptly closed the computer. Spencer never, ever, ever wanted to think about that possibility and was sick just by knowing that Ryan had.

  
(Now, he wishes he looked because then he’d know where Ryan was for four missing years.)

  
(Five contingency plans after that one, contingency plans about lizards, princesses, robots, flash drives, and lightbulbs, there was this one contingency plan. Maybe the shortest plan of all time (well, the first version was) called If I Fell in Love With Spencer Smith. The only step in that plan read: Keep loving him.)

  
_____

 

Brendon Urie was insufferable at the airport. He wouldn’t relax at all and it was only by Spencer Smith shoving him into one of the restroom stalls and having his dirty way with him did it get him to calm down. “Spencer…” Brendon moaned as he thrusted into Spencer’s mouth. Yeah, that’ll do the trick.

  
Spencer couldn’t really blame him though. He was freaking out too. Although they all said they ‘didn’t’ like Ryan that way (even though they totally did) and that they were ‘over it’ (they definitely weren’t), Spencer’s stomach would clench, thinking about Ryan, alone for four years, waking up one day without all of his memories and not thinking he could tell Spencer of all people. Even with the horrible disaster the split was, Ryan surely had to have thought he could call Spencer, right? Right? Yeah, he called them fags and left because of that and wouldn’t answer his phone and went MIA--okay Ryan was a shitty friend--but surely he knew that even if Ryan wouldn’t be there for Spencer, he’d be there for Ryan? Right? Right?

  
Brendon rubbed his thumb across Spencer’s wrist. Brendon still wasn’t sure whether or not he believed Ryan when he said he had amnesia. (“He could be faking it!”

  
“Brendon, he didn’t even know his dad was dead.”

  
“But--”

  
“And he had no recognition of me at all. We know what his eyes look like when he remembers something or someone, they always twinkle or darken--Brendon, he just stared right through me and asked what I wanted to drink,” Jon croaked.)

  
_____

 

Leo came by around seven thirty for his morning coffee. Molly had it ready, steaming for him, but when he entered the store, shooed him to the back. “What’s up?”

 

Molly was pale as fuck. Her eyes were crazed and she kept looking out to the front. “Ryan.” Leo straightened up, eyes narrowing.

  
“What? What happened?”

  
“So like, you now Ryan’s whole deal, right?” Leo nodded. Ryan, that kind bastardly soul, and Molly sat him down a few weeks back and explained to him everything they knew about Ryan. Molly shoved him aside after Ryan left and told him some more stuff, but Leo knew what Ryan’s ‘deal’ was. It took him a few days to adjust to the fact that Ryan was a.) famous, b.) amnesiac, and c.) wrote “I Write Sins Not Tragedies” but Leo quickly got over it and just went with it.

  
“Why? What happened?”

  
“So Jon Walker, you know Jon Walker?” Leo shook his head and Molly huffed. “He was in the band with Ryan and he’s also…” she pulled Leo to the doorway and pointed at the Jon that Leo met a few months back, “that guy.” Leo scowled.

  
“Where’s Ryan?”

  
“He locked himself in the apartment.”

  
“What did this guy do?”

  
“Nothing. Ryan got a good look at him and just ran.”

  
Leo glared at Jon. Jon was looking at his phone and would occasionally peek at the windows where it rained. “Can you find a way into Ryan’s apartment?”

  
Molly shrugged. “Maybe?”

  
“I’m going to go talk to him.” Jon edged closer to the shop. Molly grabbed his arm.

  
“Wait!” Leo looked back at her. “I don’t know what happened, but please, don’t kill Jon Walker. He’s really cute and I like his photos.” Leo sighed but smiled at the younger (it took him by surprise sometimes just how young Molly was--practically a decade younger than him) girl, ruffling her hair before pulling away and heading for one Mr. Jon Walker.

  
He looked up when Leo sat down across from him. “How much of a dick can you be, Walker?” Jon’s eyebrows raised.

  
“Wait, wha--”

  
“I mean, we’ve already had the creepy, staring person talk, Jon,” Leo frowned, waving his hands around, “do we really need to get into the whole ‘don’t be an asshole and treat people how you’d like to be treated’ talk? Do we Jon?” Jon started to shake his head.

“Okay, so then why the hell,” (Leo’s accent, swear to god…,) “did you think it’d be alright to not explain to Ryan that you knew him and that you had history with him?”

  
“Are you his boyfriend?” Jon blurted out in the most Brendon-esque way ever. Leo slammed his hand on the table.

  
“What the hell is wrong with you? He has amnesia!”

  
“I didn’t know that!” Jon yelped. Jon sighed and rubbed at his face, groaning. “I thought he was just, pretending to not know me or something. I don’t know, Ryan has crazy ideas.”

  
Leo laughed. “Yeah, yeah, he does,” he pointed a finger at Jon, “but why didn’t you say anything.”

  
“It’s really, really, really complicated.” Leo frowned. “I should just wait for Spencer and Brendon, there’s a whole lot of things that are needed to be sorted out.” Leo’s eyes shot wide, he stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. Leo looked out the windows.

  
“Holy shit--wait, wait, wait, did you just say Spencer Smith and Brendon Urie are coming? Here?” Jon nodded. “Shit, shit, shit--fuck.” Leo looked at Molly behind the counter. She looked like she was about to pass out. She tripped on her way around the counter.

  
“Wait--what?” Jon stood up. Leo glared at him.

  
“They’re coming!” Molly squeaked. She stumbled into the back. Leo looked around the store, searching for something.

  
“Wait, wait, Leo!” Leo stopped and looked at Jon when he yelled. “What’s wrong? It’s just Brendon and Spencer.”

  
Leo shook his head, “The hell it’s just Brendon and Spencer--are you trying to kill Ryan?”

  
“What? Why, what’s wrong?”

  
Leo stilled. His eyes were black, staring mournfully at Jon like he was the delivering the news of someone’s death. “Ryan--when I found out about him and his past--which, believe me, was a struggle all in itself--”  
“--I know right? He’s so secretive about everythi--”

  
“Jon! Spencer and Brendon are like all he remembers and all he remembers is them being the bestest of friends and everything and being young to a good life and then he wakes up one morning, not knowing what happened without the two people he cared about the most in the world and you expect him to not have a meltdown?”

  
“Holy shit.”

  
Leo nodded. “I don’t know where you were planning to stay with them, but if I may suggest, you should get the hell out of dodge.”

  
“But--”

  
“Jon,” Leo smiled, reassuringly, “he just found out that you’re someone from his past and he didn’t even know that. He needs space. Come back in a day or so.”

  
Jon was about to protest so Leo pushed him out of Captain Knots with his stuff.

  
“Or come back in a few hours.” Leo flipped the sign to CLOSED.

  
_____

 

“Ryan, shit, Ryan, open this goddamn door up!” Molly pounded against the door and Ryan responded by throwing one of his plates at the wall. It shattered to Ryan’s glee. “RYAN! WHAT HAPPENED? RYAN? Answer me you fucktard!”

  
“There’s no plan for this!” Ryan shouted. Molly’s fist hammered against the wooden door.

  
“What goddamn plan are you talking about? Ryan, let me in before you hurt yourself! There are knives in there!”

  
“Knives were apart of the plan!” Ryan shouted back before adding, “Or at least one of the plans involved one!”

  
“Ryan! Don’t do it! No, don’t do anything stupid--think of Captain Knots! Would your cat ever forgive you?”

  
Ryan looked across the room to where Captain Knots was glaring at him. “You’re right, he’d never forgive me.” Ryan closed his knife cabinet. Really, the knives were just for decapitating zombies and assassins. Ryan wasn’t an idiot.  
“Ryan, please just let me in before you do anything stupid.”

  
Ryan hobbled over to the door and leaned against the wood but didn’t undo any of the locks or open the door. “There really isn’t a plan for this,” he mumbled into the red door.

  
“What are you talking about? What are these ‘plans’?” Ryan huffed out a bitter laugh.

  
“I made these plans, for so many situations. I never made one for this one.”

  
“For finding out that your Jon was also Jon Walker who was in your old band, which you have a huge chunk of memories missing from and how your Jon didn’t tell you he was Jon Walker and that he just played along with you because he thought you were faking it but really, you had no idea it was Jon because you don’t even know Jon Walker?”

  
“He also may or may not be dating both Spencer and Brendon.” Molly let out a dangerous stream of expletives.

  
“That’s fucked up.”

  
“I don’t have a plan for this--or memories…those would also be helpful.”

  
_____

 

“Let me in Ryan.”

  
“Okay.”

  
He opened the door and both Leo and Molly stumbled in, wrapping up the thin boy in their arms and holding him close.

  
_____

 

They told Ryan that Brendon and Spencer were coming to Georgetown and spent the next three hours soothing him to sleep.

  
_____

Brendon knew he was in love with Ryan when he told him that he sang the song just the way it sounded in his head. It was like he shared something special with Ryan. Something from Ryan. Ryan knew he was in love with Brendon in the early hours of a Monday morning, where they were still waking up and Ryan got to see the cloudy eyes and dopey smile stretch across his face, his hair mussed. (Now, Ryan knew he was attracted to Brendon the moment he opened his lips and asked “Hey, do you like Disney?” the first time they met.)

  
Spencer and Ryan and Ryan and Spencer, their love was this always there kind of thing. They couldn’t remember a life before and it hurt to live one without the other. It took a long time for Ryan to notice it, and surprisingly longer for Spencer, to realize that the touches of others didn’t feel quite as right as theirs did. Spencer couldn’t operate without Ryan leaning against him and Ryan could barely breathe when Spencer was out of the room when he needed him. Ryan, after realizing it, made a plan and Spencer, after knowing it, became cuddlier.

  
Jon knew he was in love last. Spencer knew he was in love with Brendon when Brendon knew he was in love with Jon and Spencer. Brendon knew he was in love second, after Ryan, and loved Spencer after one killer party and William Beckett thought it’d be best to drape himself all over Spencer’s lap and make noises as Spencer laughed. (Ryan spent the rest of that particular evening out on the balcony with a half empty pack of Marlboros, jabbing the pen across his skin in thick lines of words of “I love you, mine, mine, mine, please be mine.”)

  
Brendon knew he loved Jon, really loved him, when he sang Aladdin with him and gave him coffee. Ryan knew the beginning of his love for Jon Walker sprouted when he stepped in for Brent and kicked ass that night. Jon knew he was in love with Brendon first. It was mostly because Brendon kept touching him and would get all up in his business and turned Jon’s world from Cassie, Cassie, Cassie to Brendon, Brendon, Brendon. And then it was Spencer who kept their band together and made a shit ton of bridges so everyone would fucking communicate. Spencer also had a kink (not that kind of kink) for dancing to loud music when he thought no one was around and his hips would sway in the most enticing way that would make Jon stutter (okay, so maybe that kind of kink.)

  
Ryan was the hardest to fall for. Not because Ryan wasn’t lovable, it was just that Ryan closed himself off. It was easy for Brendon because Brendon did what he wanted and Spencer had been with Ryan for so long they already were an old married couple and Jon was too laid back to do anything so prying. So he waited and waited for Ryan to open himself up. Jon’s love for Ryan was like a filling bathtub, that slowly covered his entire body, spilled over the edge, and took Jon’s breath away. It was mostly the moments when Ryan had his back turned, taking off his shirt, and exposing the curve of his spine that made Jon want to pull Ryan close, lick his skin, and beg for him to love him. But it were the little drowsy secrets Ryan would whisper in the space between being awake and asleep that made Jon wait, made him wait for Ryan to show him the complexities of his persona at his own pace.

  
All four of the boys shared and showed their love differently. Brendon’s eyes were fucking hearts for his significant others and he’d moon around on stage, crooning his words and swiveling his hips with a lick of his lips. Brendon was obvious when in love but highly cautious on telling people specifically who he was in love with. But when he was, every goddamn person in the three mile radius knew about it.

  
Jon and Spencer were very laid back and sort of conservative about it. Jon didn’t flaunt it, but he didn’t hide it either, telling anyone who asked. Jon, when he was in love, would get a little stupid around his significant other(s) and blurt out random questions. Spencer didn’t flaunt it either but it took a little coaxing for him to get into it. Spencer would get this little smile on his face when he thought about them. And that was that. Spencer was reduced to little smiles and small giggles.

  
Ryan hid his affection the best. Ryan touched a lot and not a lot at the same time. He was this constant experiment that people would try to understand but every three seconds, would change his reaction. No one really knew what Ryan looked like in love except Ryan. For Ryan, he looked like sleepless nights filled with plans being written in front of a glowing screen as they slept near him.

  
It sucked being in love.

  
_____

 

Spencer glared at Jon. “What do you mean we have to leave?” Jon fiddled with the button of his shirt. Brendon looked warily between the two. Spencer was the most emotional when it came to Ryan.

 

“He really, really does have amnesia and he--”

 

Brendon narrowed his eyes, “Do you even have proof?”

 

_____

 

As you can see,” Dr. Hern held up an x-ray, “Mr. Ross suffered here, here, and here.” He pointed at random parts of Ryan’s brain.

 

(“Huh,” Brendon grinned, “I guess there’s proof that he has one.” Spencer scowled, nudging him hard.)

 

“And thus,” Dr. Hern concluded, rolling up the pictures, “he suffers from amnesia. He came to me a year ago just to make sure he had what he thought he did--”

 

“You mean he moved out here without knowing for sure that he has amnesia?” Dr. Hern shrugged.

 

“I wanted him to talk to a psychologist after finding out but he shrugged me away. But yes, Mr. Ross moved here with a six year memory gap.”

 

“Has he gained any of it back?” Jon leaned forward, resting his chin on the palm of his hand.

 

“He was supposed to have a few days later. But, with these things…” Dr. Hern shrugged again. “From what I can tell, he’s regained some memories. I think at least one or two years.”

  
Jon nodded, Brendon was silent, and Spencer stared wide eyes out of the window.

 

_____

 

“He doesn’t remember,” Spencer kicked at a rock. Brendon’s head leaned on his shoulder and Jon held his hand.

  
“I know.”

  
“He doesn’t even know how much he accomplished.”

  
“I know.”

  
“He doesn’t...he doesn’t…” Spencer searched for words, watery eyes staring up at the sky.

  
“I know.”


End file.
